by Maggie Hope
But when they crossed the road this time the beach had disappeared. Or at least there was just a thin line of sand in places and waves were splashing up against the sea wall. Richard was disappointed and inclined to be tearful. Theda lifted him up in her arms but he struggled to escape and ran forward, not looking where he was going, straight into an enormous Old English sheepdog. Down he went, and the dog too, but the dog picked himself up and bent over the boy, barking furiously.
Theda ran forward. ‘Go away! Go away, you brute,’ she cried, waving her arms about. The dog backed off and she picked up the boy and sat down on one of the benches that lined the promenade and hugged him to her.
‘Hush now, never mind, pet,’ she said, and examined a graze, which had appeared on his knee.
‘Let me look at that,’ said a voice. It must be the owner of the dog, she thought, and cradled Richard protectively. Fury mounted in her at anyone who would let a great brute like that free in a place where bairns were playing.
‘I’ll see to it myself,’ she shouted, not even looking at him. ‘I’m a nurse. Why don’t you keep your dog under control? He’s vicious, that’s what he is, great lumping thing!’
‘In the first place, he’s a she, and if you take a proper look at her you’ll see she’s not in the least vicious. It was the boy who ran into her. She wouldn’t usually have barked at him, she was startled, that’s all. Now come on, let me look at him. You may be a nurse but I’m a doctor.’ He lifted Richard’s leg up by the heel of his sandshoe and inspected the graze, and smiled at the boy.
Slowly, as Theda realized that Richard was not really hurt apart from the graze on his knee, for which the only treatment needed was a wash and a piece of plaster, she calmed down and began to realise she knew that voice. Oh, yes, she did. She couldn’t believe it though. She looked up at him and saw he was gazing at her, open-mouthed.
‘What on earth are you doing here?’ she asked Ken.
‘Theda? Theda Wearmouth?’
Chapter Thirty-Two
‘She’s called Flora, Mam, did you hear the man say? She’s a lovely dog, isn’t she, Mam? Can we have a dog? I’ll look after it, I promise, take it for walks and that, find it stuff to eat. Please, Mam, can we have a dog, a big dog like Flora?’
‘We’ll see,’ Theda temporised. Richard was standing by the wash basin while she dried him. She had sponged him down and for once he hadn’t insisted on doing it himself, he was too busy talking.
‘Yes, but can we, Mam?’ Richard insisted. He looked anxiously at her with Ken’s eyes and her heart turned over. Surely Ken had seen how alike they were? Trembling a little, she picked up the boy’s pyjamas and put them on him.
‘Into bed now, no more talking. I’ll read you a story and then you must go to sleep. You want to go on the beach tomorrow, don’t you?’
‘I do, Mam, I do. Flora might be there, mightn’t she? We can go in the water together. It won’t matter if we get splashed, will it? I mean, I’ll have my trunks on and Flora—’
‘No more talking, I said. Now which story do you want?’
But Richard was already dropping off to sleep, his eyelids closing, lashes fanning out over his cheeks. ‘Two more whole days,’ he was saying, and turned over with his back to the light and was off.
Theda sat by the window in the near dark, looking out over the promenade. The window was open and she could hear the sea, like the wind soughing through trees, but rhythmically rather than wildly. Now Richard was taken care of, she could think about her own reactions to seeing Ken so unexpectedly.
‘What on earth are you doing here?’ she had asked, almost as though he had no right to be. And the scene repeated itself in her mind.
‘I live here,’ he said, and pointed to a pre-war villa just off the front. ‘Do you see? The one with the lilac by the front door.’
‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘For some reason I thought you lived in Marsden.’
‘No, but my family does, if you remember.’
Oh, yes, she remembered. She felt hot all over at how much she remembered. Dear Lord, she wasn’t prepared for this, she needed time.
‘I have to go,’ she said, setting the child down and getting rapidly to her feet. ‘Come along, Richard.’
‘Look at him, Mam, look at the dog! He’s licking me, Mam, look!’
‘She. Her name’s Flora,’ Ken said automatically, but he was still gazing at Theda. ‘I’ll walk with you.’
‘No!’ she said, and then realising she had been too vehement. ‘No, there’s no need. We’re staying just across the road. The Britannia boarding house.’
‘Oh, yes. Not far from me then,’ he commented. ‘I’ll come along anyway. Heel, Flora.’ Obediently the dog left Richard and went to her master, standing patiently while he attached a lead to her collar.
They stood in a row on the kerb, waiting for a gap in the traffic, and then crossed the road and were at the boarding house. Theda turned to Ken.
‘We’ll go in then. It’s Richard’s bedtime, he’s tired,’ she said.
‘No, I’m not,’ he declared. ‘Are you going to be on the beach tomorrow, sir?’ He was on his best behaviour, thought Theda, amused even in her confusion. He had to be to remember to call Ken ‘sir’ instead of ‘mister’.
‘My name’s Ken, Ken Collins. Yes, I think we will. We’re there most mornings I don’t have to go to the hospital. What’s your name, son?’
Theda caught her breath. ‘Look, we really have to go—’ she said, pulling Richard towards the front door of the boarding house.
‘Richard, my name’s Richard,’ he called. ‘Don’t pull, Mam, I’m coming.’
‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ said Ken. ‘Down by the ice-cream kiosk? Ten o’clock?’
‘I . . . I don’t know.’
‘Aw, yes we will, Mam – say we will!’
Ken took a step towards her. ‘Look, Theda, I was trying to find out where you were. In fact I’d just found out that you were living and working in Durham City. I was going to come and see you; isn’t this a great coincidence?’
Theda’s face closed up. ‘Oh, yes, a great coincidence. Mind, there’s likely to be a few great coincidences in five years, aren’t there? Good night then. Richard, say goodnight to Mr Collins.’
‘Goodnight, Mr Collins, I’ll see you tomorrow. Will you buy me a cornet?’
‘Richard!’ Theda opened the door and closed it behind her, hearing Ken saying something behind her but not what it was. ‘You don’t ask strangers for treats, don’t let me have to tell you again.’
‘But he’s not a stranger, Mam. You said you know him. You do know him, Mam,’ wailed Richard, as they climbed the stairs to their room.
I do know him, thought Theda, going to the window and staring out to sea. There were lights out on the horizon, no doubt ships and small boats going into harbour at Shields or somewhere. Why on earth had she picked Seaburn? She could just as easily have gone to South Shields or Whitley Bay even.
Five years hadn’t changed her much, thought Ken as he let himself into the house. Her hair was still as black and abundant and her eyes wide and brown with the brows arched over them. Funny that he should have been making enquiries about her these last few weeks without actually getting to the point of finding her, and here she was, on his own doorstep, so to speak.
He took Flora into the kitchen and put food in her bowl, made sure there was enough fresh water for her. ‘Stay,’ he said, and she looked up from the bowl and whined softly before accepting the fact that he was going out and returning to her food. Ken went upstairs and washed and shaved and put on fresh clothes then went out to his car. And all the time his mind was on Theda and the little boy who reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t think who.
Half-heartedly he started the engine and drove out on to the road south. He was going to dinner at the farm; he had promised Gran he would go tonight.
‘I’m getting on, you know,’ she had said on the telephone, ‘you should come more often.’
Ken smiled. So far as he could tell she was as fit as anyone who had reached the age of seventy-six could be, but she was not above a little emotional blackmail when she thought it was warranted.
It was only a short drive to Marsden and he had little time to think about his meeting with Theda and the boy. He ate dinner with the family and sat afterwards and discussed farm business with his brother and his Uncle Jack. But Walt soon went out, though when he was asked was cagey about where he was going, muttering that he might call in at the Whitworth Arms.
‘I don’t know why our lads have to be so secretive when they start courting,’ Meg commented. I’m sure we’d be glad to get them off our hands, wouldn’t we, Jane?’ She spoke to her daughter but she was looking at Ken.
‘Who do you mean, Gran?’ he asked. ‘I don’t think Uncle Jack is courting. You’re not, are you, Jack?’
‘Don’t talk so soft,’ growled his uncle.
‘It’s well time you sorted yourself out, our Ken,’ said Meg. ‘If you’re not careful you’ll end up a grumpy old bachelor. Time you were finding yourself a nice lass and settling down.’
‘I might just do that,’ he agreed, completely taking the wind out of her sails.
Driving back to Seaburn, he found himself looking forward to the next morning. He had no clinic or theatre list and wouldn’t be going into the hospital at all unless called. He could spend the whole day on the beach with Flora.
He saw them cross the road and the esplanade and come down the steps to the beach as Flora began barking in an excitement that matched Richard’s. They saw Ken and Richard ran towards him and the dog ran to meet the boy as though she had known him all her life.
Theda followed more slowly, feeling suddenly unsure of herself.
‘Good morning, Nurse Wearmouth,’ Ken said, and smiled down at her. ‘I’ve been watching you.’
‘Morning.’ She gazed at him, this man who was a stranger yet not a stranger, and thought, What the heck? Why worry about being hurt again, sieze the moment.
‘Can I take my shoes and socks off?’ asked Richard, and she took them and put them in her holdall, then she and Ken began walking down the beach just above the water line while Richard and Flora paddled at the water’s edge. They walked in silence for a while, Theda searching for something to say though anything she thought of seemed unsuitable. In the end she took refuge in the banal subject of the weather.
‘Nice morning, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. A cool breeze off the sea, though. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s not a sea fret before the day’s out. The North Sea doesn’t warm up until the late summer and when the warmth of the sun hits it we get a fret. Or a haar, if you like.’
‘Yes.’ They walked on, watching Richard who had found a piece of driftwood and was throwing it into the sea for Flora to retrieve. Obligingly the dog brought it back and Richard threw it again.
‘He’ll tire before the dog,’ said Ken.
‘Yes.’ He would be beginning to think that was all she could say. Theda cast a quick glance at him sideways and saw he was grinning, eyes dancing with merriment, and she grinned at him too and relaxed.
They found a place sheltered from the wind but close enough to the sea so that they could keep an eye on Richard and Flora. Ken got deck chairs and put them side by side. They chatted, carefully at first, talking about their time at the prisoner-of-war hospital and carefully skirting round anything at all about the time he went away.
‘You remember Major Koestler?’ asked Theda.
‘Yes, of course I do.’
‘Did you know they caught him sending messages back to Germany? He had a short-wave radio hidden in his room. The funny thing is, no one suspected him at all. It was a seven-day wonder when the radio was discovered. I never could understand how he could find anything of interest to send. Not in a little place like Bishop Auckland.’
‘It’s surprising. I did hear about it actually, I was questioned about him at the time. But the war was just about over anyway. I never suspected he was a Nazi, though. He was such a good doctor, a dedicated man.’
Theda remembered the disabled children in the small ward on Block Two, remembered the POW’s attitude to them that Christmas of 1944. ‘I did,’ she said. Ken glanced at her and then away, over to the edge of the sea where Richard and Flora were still trotting in and out of the water.
‘At one time I thought he was sweet on you,’ he said. ‘And you on him. I was jealous.’
Theda stared at him. Had she heard aright? ‘What did you say?’ she asked him, but Richard had come up and was tugging at Ken’s sleeve.
‘Will you help me build a sandcastle?’ he asked Ken, then looked at his mother and added, ‘Sir?’
‘My name is Ken; you can call me that,’ he said. And they built a castle, round and high with battlements the shape of Richard’s little bucket, for they used that to shape the wet sand. Ken dug out a moat and build a drawbridge and marked out a portcullis and some windows. And Richard started the interminable journeys to the water’s edge to bring back water for the moat. After a while another little boy joined him and the two of them trotted backwards and forwards to the sea, with Flora going along at first until she tired and flopped down beside Ken, her tongue hanging out.
The boys came back yet again and dropped their buckets. ‘This is Brian,’ Richard said to Ken and Theda. ‘His mam’s over there.’ He pointed to a woman sitting knitting close by.
‘Hello, Brian,’ said Theda. ‘Are you thirsty, you two? I’ll get you some pop at the kiosk. Do you want dandelion and burdock or cream soda?’
‘Dandelion and burdock, please,’ the boys said together, and Ken hauled himself to his feet.
‘I’ll get it,’ he said, and Theda enjoyed the unaccustomed luxury of sitting back and waiting while he did. He came back with four bottles.
‘I knew you’d like one too,’ he said to her. ‘It’s all those years of doing without such luxuries during the war that does it.’
‘Your daddy’s nice,’ said Brian to Richard, and there was a sudden silence before Richard hooted with laughter.
‘He’s not my daddy!’ he cried.
The sun went in, and as sometimes happens a fret rolled in from the North Sea, damp and clinging, and it started to rain.
‘We’ll have to go indoors,’ said Theda, rising to her feet and pulling Richard’s jacket out of her bag. ‘Come on, Richard. Put this on, we’re going.’
‘I don’t want to,’ he wailed. ‘I want to play with Brian.’ But Brian’s mother was calling him and suddenly everyone was scurrying from the beach.
‘Come back to my house?’ said Ken.
‘Oh, well, I don’t think—’ Theda began. Suddenly she thought of something which hadn’t occurred to her before.
‘Your wife . . . we don’t want to be a trouble.’
‘I’m not married,’ said Ken. ‘There’s only Mrs Gascoigne who “does” for me. Every morning, nine till twelve.’ Theda felt she had been too obvious for amusement was in his eyes once again but nevertheless she felt a lightening of the heart.
‘We’ll come. Richard loves to play with Flora.’
‘And she likes to play with him.’
Richard brightened at the idea of going home with Flora and they hurried across the road and up the small drive and round the side of the house to the back porch where Flora had to stay until she dried out properly.
‘I’ll dry her,’ said Richard eagerly, and Ken handed him the towel while he and Theda went into the kitchen. ‘I’ll make some lunch,’ said Ken. ‘Mrs Gascoigne has already gone, I didn’t realise it was so late.’
‘Oh, don’t bother, we can eat at the Britannia,’ said Theda.
But Ken wouldn’t hear of it and in the end they made up a meal together, he washing salad stuffs at the sink while Theda sliced tomatoes and cheese to eke out the ham that Mrs Gascoigne had left in the fridge for Ken.
When it was ready they went to call Richard but there he wa
s, beside Flora, boy and dog asleep on the rug, the boy’s head on the dog’s neck and one thin brown arm flung over her back.
‘Leave them,’ whispered Ken, and drew her inside, through the kitchen and the hall and into the sitting-room. She went obediently, drugged by his nearness and the feel of his hand on her wrist. He pulled her to him and kissed her on the lips, gently at first and then insistently, and it was as if the intervening years had never been. If a warning bell rang in her head Theda was quite deaf to it, all she could hear was the clamouring in her blood, the long denied desire for him, and could feel him harden against her through the thin cotton of her dirndl skirt.
She was drowning, smothered by the strength of the feelings she had denied for so long. His fingers moved on her back, sending electric shocks through her system until she thought she couldn’t bear it. She was desperate, moaning, as she leaned into him. Ken was drawing her towards the couch, bending his head to her breast, pulling down her blouse impatiently, and there was no way she could have stopped him, though a flicker of sanity did run through her head and she knew she should. And then his arms were dropping from her and she swayed, eyes only half-open. For a minute she thought she would fall.
‘Are you my daddy?’ said Richard’s voice and her eyes flew open. He was there, standing in the doorway, one hand on the door knob. Even in her febrile state she registered his expression of hope and eagerness. ‘Daddies and mams do that, Billy Carter said.’
Chapter Thirty-Three
If the proverbial ground had opened and swallowed her, Theda felt she would have been happy. As it was, she sat in a corner of an out-of-the-way cafe with Richard and watched while he ate egg and chips. She drank a couple of mugs of tea and the rain trickled down the window pane, echoing her mood.
‘I don’t want to go now!’ Richard had cried as she’d grabbed his coat and bundled him into it and out of the house, making an incoherent response when Ken tried to stop her, not looking at him, she couldn’t.
‘What about lunch?’ Ken asked bewildered. ‘Oh, come on, Theda, kids say these things. They don’t mean anything. Why get in a state?’